Ten Percent
by Rasiaa
Summary: "Disaster. You're a disaster." / "I love you!" / She laughs and he snaps the picture.


_APhoenixRising, here you go. Ted and Vic, romance, "please? for me?" Sorry this is hitting the deadline but I just started college and essays are now a thing._

* * *

"Smile!"

Vic turns and promptly groans. "No, Teddy, come on," she says, but the small smile on her face gives her away. He takes her picture anyway. She scowls at him but she's laughing so he just smirks and bounds over to snuggle into her side.

"Look," he murmurs, showing her the phone. She shakes her head, turning away.

"You know I hate pictures," she complains.

He looks up and pushes up onto his elbow to kiss her. "But _I love you_ so _I_ need pictures," he says.

"You have _me_ , idiot," she protests.

He hums noncommittally, turning back to his phone and laying his head on her thigh. "But you're not always with me."

"Teddy. I'm with you ninety percent of the time."

"Exactly! Ten percent. I need to see _you."_

"You're dangerously attached," she says.

He scoffs. "You're just as bad. You'd never allow me to be so clingy if you weren't the same way."

She doesn't answer that.

…

"Aww. Com'on. Please? For me?"

"You're a disaster," Vic complains, but she smiles anyway.

He's breaking her down. He grins victoriously and holds the phone up, snapping the picture before she can change her mind.

The lighting is shit and he's kind of awkward looking but she's perfect so he feels okay about it. She's looking and she scoffs. "Why do you insist on this?"

"Ten percent," he reminds cheerfully.

"Disaster. You're a disaster."

"I love you," he hums. He looks away from the photo to his girlfriend, probably looking like an absolute loon.

She scowls at him but the crinkles around her eyes and the twitch of her lips betray her. His smile widens. She huffs, shoving his face away.

…

Her beauty continues to blow him away.

He wants to capture every moment he can.

"Teddy!" she laughs even as she's yelling at him, eyes bright. He thinks his heart might burst, he loves this girl so much. "Enough!"

"No can do," he mutters, angling the phone for another snapshot.

The picture captures her mid-eye roll, hands on her hips and the spray of the ocean rising behind her.

She's like a goddess.

He saves the picture as his background photo, then has to rearrange his apps so he can see her face. He hears her walk up to him and feels the light tug on his ear. "Teddy…"

He glances up under his eyelashes, grinning. "Let's go have dinner," he says. She furrows her eyebrows and gives him a very obvious once-over, unimpressed.

"You plan on wearing sweatpants and a torn tee shirt to a restaurant?" she demands.

"The focus will be on you, love," he says cheerfully, but obliges and walks to her house over the hill of the beach, where he has a spare change of clothes somewhere. Probably.

…

He does.

He takes sixteen more pictures of her before they get there.

She's annoyed, but she's also at the most expensive restaurant in their little town, so she's not irritated enough to bitch at him yet. There's a lot of eye-rolling and exasperated calls of his name, though.

When their food is placed in front of them, he doesn't move. He watches her instead.

Vic notices. Of course she does. She lowers her fork and frowns. "Something wrong?"

He shrugs. "I got a job," he says.

Her face brightens before his tone sinks in. Her eyes narrow. "What aren't you saying?"

He averts his gaze. "It's in Romania."

Silence.

She swallows heavily and sighs. "When do you leave?"

"Two months."

"Hence the photos," she guesses. He winces guiltily. "Ten percent," she murmurs next. "That's how often I'll see you, isn't it?"

He curses her intelligence under his breath. "It's a great opportunity and I honestly - I didn't know what to say. That they wanted me. In Romania. Of all places…"

His speech is a bit broken. He runs his fingers through his hair.

"I love you," she says. He looks up. She's smiling, a bit sad, a bit fond. "So, so much."

"I love you, too," he answers.

She stands, making her way around the table. She tugs on the back of his chair and sits in his lap when he scoots back. "Vic?"

She lifts the phone. Smiles. The camera app is open.

He smiles, too. There's the sound of a shutter. She lowers the phone and brings up his messaging app, attaching the picture to a text to her phone.

"If I only get you ten percent of the time," she mutters, "guess I'll need pictures too."


End file.
